All That Glitters Is Not Gold
by OMG-Orlaith
Summary: Crack!fic in which Dean and Sam encounter Robert Pattinson while on a routine hunt. Only it's Robert who does some hunting of his own. (Drabble, based off of a well-known tumblr post. Crack!fics are really difficult to write...)


"We'd better leave before this place gets too crowded, Sammy..."

Dean's voice is dripping with sarcasm as he sits at a barstool, surveying the area around him. Including him and Sam, there can't be more than ten, maybe twelve, drinkers. The place is old; the leather on the barstools torn, and the bar itself coated with a layer of dust and god-knows what else.

Sam takes his seat beside Dean, and orders two beers. Sam takes a quick drink of his one, grimaces, and shoves the bottle further away from him. He fumbles in the pocket of his jacket, and when he finally secures the map he was looking for, he unfolds it and places it front of them.

"Sure they won't notice?" Dean mumbles, gesturing towards their fellow drinkers (most of whom are frowning angrily at a football game playing on the small TV in the corner.

"A little preoccupied, don't you think?" Replies Sam. "Plus, we've got bigger issues on our hands here, Dean. Three missing persons reports in just as many weeks...in a town like this? Sure, it's a little run-down, but not exactly the highest crime rate in the US-"

"Sam," Dean interrupts. "Creepy guy, to your left. He look familiar to you?"

Sam looks over his shoulder as subtly as he can, and spots the guy Dean pointed out. He's the only one, apart from them, that is sitting at the bar. He had ordered a beer, but instead is just sitting there, frowning slightly at the men watching the game. His dark hair is contrasted by his shockingly pale skin, and once he catches Sam staring, he looks uncomfortable. He collects his things, pays for his beer and storms out.

"Well, that was normal." Dean remarks.

Sam can't help but agree with him, but still returned to the case.

"I know, Dean, but look. One of the bodies turned up last week, and the cause of death? Exsanguination. Cops can't explain it. I think we're looking at a vampire nest here, Dean...are you even listening?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Dean mutters, still watching the door curiously. "Sam, there was something not right about the guy. I can tell..."

Sam sighs, knowing that he is beaten. "Fine, Dean. What's your plan?"

"You go up to him with your FBI act, ask him a few questions, y'know? I'll wait, and if he attacks or runs, then I'll get him. You'll be completely safe, Sammy." He adds with a grin.

Outside, it is bitterly cold, with frost already forming on the windows and cars. The man who'd just left is sitting on a bench in a nearby park, about two minutes walk from the bar.  
Sam takes a deep breath, and goes for it.

"Excuse me, sir? I'm with the FBI, and I'd like to ask you a few questions about the recent disappearances in this area."

The man looks startled, though just for a moment. To Sam's surprise, once he shows the guy his badge, he then smirks a little, and asks him to continue.

"Go ahead, Agent."

"Erm, alright. Are you from this area, sir?"

"No, just visiting." The man replies, still grinning.

"We're you in town on August 21st?"

"Nope."

"August 24th?" Sam continues, unnerved by the man's attitude.

"Yes, agent."

"That was the night of Alice Jackson's disappearance. Are you aware of that?"

"Yes, I am, agent."

"Do you have any information that the FBI could find useful to this investigation?"

"Well, I suppose you could tell them that it's a bunch of vamps that are killing them off. But you already know that, don't you, Sam?"

"H-how'd you know-" Sam begins, only to be interrupted by Dean's shouts.

"Sam! Sammy! Behind you, Sam?"

Sure enough, before Sam could even turn around, a woman with short, spiky hair had appeared and grabbed his throat. One glance at her razor-sharp teeth and Sam knew he was in trouble. Dean was sprinting over to them, but he wouldn't be able to make it in time...

All Sam saw was a flash of silver, and then he could feel a spray of blood on his face before collapsing to his knees where he knees, panting. The man was standing tall, wielding both a machete and the vampire's head, still grinning.

"Hey!" Dean calls, running over to them. "I knew I recognised you! Aren't you that Edward from Twi-"

"Don't fucking say it."

"But you've got the same hair and everything-"

"I'm Rob. ROB. If I hear one more mention of that fucking glittery preteen, I swear to GOD...I've been tracking this vamp nest for months, and I've had more hunters try to kill me than there are vamps in North America."

"Thanks, though." Sam interjects. "Really. I'd've been dead back there if it wasn't for you."

"Trust me, I've been wanting to kill as many vamps as possible for as long as I can remember."


End file.
